


i like me better (when i'm with you)

by Honeyduker



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Character Study, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, au where everyone sorta knows everyone but hiyori LOL, bruh, i had this fic mostly in my head but now im like ???, if i ever post more, kisuke is in this because the kisuke hiyori friendship is precious, lawyer!shinji, lisa keep roasting, phdnerds!urahiyo, then not fluff because like it's time to r18, this is going to be the most mundane fic ever but it's shiyori so probably still g, this rating is going to change probably, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 11:43:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13703775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honeyduker/pseuds/Honeyduker
Summary: Modern AU fic where housemates are real, Shinji is possibly a lawyer, his best friend is a scruffy PhD nerd and Hiyori wants to deck the both of them anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i do not own bleach, bleach belongs to kubo. this is a fictional work only based off certain characters in the bleach manga series and loosely based off places in the real world. any resemblance to real people living or dead and events is purely coincidental. everything is fictitious.

If anyone asked Sarugaki Hiyori how it was that she came to know Hirako Shinji, she wouldn’t really know where to start. Perhaps, Urahara Kisuke was a good place as any though.

Urahara fucking Kisuke, who materialised in the middle the lab Hiyori used in Kyoto University one sunny spring day at approximately 11:47 am in his worn-out sneakers, and then didn’t leave. Alright, so he didn’t really materialise, but it was the element of surprise that threw Hiyori off, and tilted her into the stratosphere.

/

_‘Uhhhh hello’, Urahara Kisuke greeted, one hand embarrassedly scratching the back of his head. ‘I’m Urahara Kisuke, doing my doctorate in Biochem, and I guess we’ll be sharing this lab space. Please take care of me.’_

_‘Uhhh, who the fuck?’ Hiyori responded._

_/_

Hiyori had not expected she would share a lab with someone for the rest of the year, or perhaps, ever, for the course of her PhD, but there she was, spending her days hollering at a lanky blond haired genius-ditz as the season of spring evolved into a sweltering summer where the air conditioning in their office broke; then as seasons go, autumn slowly changed to winter and the trees outside had about as many fiery vermillion leaves adorning them as Hiyori had any fucks left to give. So much for her peace of mind to focus on her research and get through her Chemical Engineering course.

Things were shaky at best between them for a good few months. Hikifune Kirio, their shared supervisor – nobel prize winner for her contribution to the biochemistry field – had chuckled, and told Hiyori to play nice. Hiyori begrudgingly complied, but Hikifune sensei then left on her sabbatical to Germany and would not be back for the next twelve months. With no one around to keep Hiyori in check, demon Hiyori was unleashed. She couldn’t understand why someone who got accepted into what Kisuke elusively called ‘a university in Tokyo’, would transfer down here and get in her way. This ‘university in Tokyo’ turned out to be none other than Tokyo University, as Hiyori had suspected, and she was beyond confused.

She had tried asking Kisuke why he came down here in a futile attempt to chase him back up to the modern capital, but he was elusive in his answers, the hollowness of his responses haphazardly filled with such an abundance half-truths and corny jokes Hiyori had eventually decided she was better not hearing about any of it at all.

Did she stomp on his face in a past life or alternate universe to deserve this? She didn’t need this kind of cosmic justice, screw that and screw this slouchy blond tosser in particular.

Hiyori was not completely to blame though. Sure, she was prickly to get along with and hard to figure out at the start, but ask a friend of hers like Kuna Mashiro, and she would agree that once she accepted you, you were set for life. This was what Mashiro told Kisuke anyway, behind Hiyori’s back, of course (Mashiro eventually met Kisuke through Hiyori, and the two of them seemed to get along swimmingly – Hiyori called them the ditz union). On the other hand, Urahara Kisuke, was horrifyingly oblivious for someone hailed as a genius. His head was up in the clouds, yet there was a caustically arrogant side to him that reared its head when he wasn’t busy being bleakly self-deprecating. Hiyori spent her time see-sawing between yelling at him and being begrudgingly saddled with the role of his unofficial guide to living in the ancient and noble city of Kyoto.

The other truly terrifying thing about Kisuke beside his airheadedness  was, ironically, his razor-sharp ability to observe and extrapolate information about his surroundings; this extended to Sarugaki Hiyori and naturally, the best strategy to coexist harmoniously with her in a small lab environment. Yet, observers could testify that he made little to no effort on his behalf to do so. Not out of malice – Kisuke was actually quite fond of his small irate colleague – but simply because it seemed like the more fun thing to do, and something in his gut told him it would be better in the long run – nonsensical as it was. Hiyori didn’t seem to tolerate phony flakes, and Kisuke sighed; damn, was this harder than his research or what. Be polite and phony and get his ass kicked by Hiyori, or be himself and get his ass kicked by Hiyori?

 Why, if a person’s wealth was said to be measured by the number of options they had available to them at any given time in their life then right now, Kisuke could probably afford half an onigiri from the Lawson’s down the road. A whole onigiri if he really, really tried.

To make things harder, Hiyori had cut back her shifts at the café near her university and Urahara Kisuke had been the sole applicant to fill in the gaps. So they became colleagues at not one, but two places. PhD students were provided university housing which gave preference to first years, and a reasonable stipend for living costs, but the university had cut funding drastically in recent years and unless the average student was to survive on eating grass from the university sports field and a bowl of rice if they really wanted to channel their inner feudal daimyo, then part time work was a sensible choice; this was only a mild exaggeration. Hiyori and Kisuke were doing okay, because they each had some scholarship or other which was a bonus, but more of that sweet sweet yen if you had the time couldn’t hurt.  Hiyori loved her takoyaki, and the limited edition Rilakkuma gachapons got her _every damn time._ Kisuke had a sorry, kicked-puppy sort of look on his face but he explained that he wanted to not be a burden on his very rich girlfriend, whose parents had ‘apparently cut her off anyway’.

‘Um, okay, did I ask,’ Hiyori said dismissively as they started their first shift together. Kisuke wanted to say that she indeed did ask, if 'what the _fuck_ are you doing here baldy' was anything to go by, but he wisely held his tongue. He did note that she was patient for Hiyori standards that day, and did the hard yard, but she had also made him suffer through her ‘this is just for today, because you’re a noob,’ declaration about half a million times. Apparently by Hiyori standards, the noob coworker pass only lasted one (1) shift.

/

Life settled into a hectic kind of rhythm for Hiyori, but a rhythm nonetheless. The daily grind wore on, and as she was grinding beans for a bunch of giggly high school girls who were clearly skiving their afternoon classes, the universe taught her a lesson on what could be worse than one slouchy cynic blond. _Two_ slouchy cynical blonds.

The second slouchy cynical blond had less of that matted, scruffy hair though and looked expensive as fuck. Grey three piece suit, perfectly fitted shirt, and a tie that could look like an imposter omamori tassel knot if it were done in a way that could get any more ostentatious – was this person’s life goal to be featured in a pretentious men’s fashion magazine or to make a living off advertising expensive swiss-made watches? Hiyori eyed him reproachfully from behind the glass of the pastry cabinet after serving the group of girls their takeaway coffee – she had only tried to get their attention five times, as they seemed to be too busy ogling the newcomer.

What was someone like _him_ doing in a place like this?

Her silent query was answered when Kisuke came dashing out from behind the counter after tripping up over the mop bucket, and flung an arm around said non-scruffy blond.

‘Shinji, you’re back in one piece' Kisuke said in a singsong voice. ‘How was, er, Tokyo,’ he asked delicately.

‘Frosty.’ Shinji laughed and pinched the tea-towel in Kisuke's hand, then tossed it in the general direction of the counter. 'Watch it, I just got this jacket back from dry cleaning and the obaa-chan there is scary! Don’t make me go back unless I have to.’

The moment the words left his mouth, the pair saw the tea towel sail back through the air in a graceful parabolic arc towards them, and land smack bang on Shinji's head.

‘What the fu-' Shinji began.

'Whoops,' Kisuke muttered to no one in particular.

'Don't you _what the fuck_ me!' A voice hollered from behind the pastry cabinet.

A mop of blond hair tied up in neat twin-tails slid into view where the counter was waist level, and it belonged to a girl who currently looked very pissed off.

Shinji stared.

Hiyori aggressively jabbed a thumb at herself. 'Hey baldy who just tossed that gross tea towel at me, where’s _my_ dry cleaning?'

Shinji had removed the offending towel off his head by this point, and was pinching a tuft of his hair between long fingers, examining the damage.

‘Kisuke, who is this gremlin?’ Shinji openly questioned, blinking at the girl. ‘Your clothes don’t look like they warrant dry cleaning.’

Kisuke thought that now was a good time to start digging his own grave. ‘Sarugaki Hiyori-san, you know, uhhh I think I’ve mentioned her to you before.’

‘Sarugaki Hiyori? The girl who loaned you lunch money when you forgot your wallet? and climbed six flights of stairs to fetch your sleeping ass when the fire alarm went off, even though it was a false one? The one who impulsively sunk two-thousand yen into a gudetama gachapon machine within the space of five minutes? _That_ one?’

‘The very same,’ sighed Kisuke.

Shinji quirked an eyebrow disbelievingly. ‘Really?’

‘Yes,’ came Kisuke’s feeble response. ‘I forgot to mention to you she also kicked the shit out of the the gacha machine when it didn't yield the yellow chicken character she wanted.’

Dead, dead, Kisuke knew he was dead.

‘You also didn’t tell me she was in like, high school.’

‘Hey fuckers!’ Hiyori brought the attention back onto herself. ‘Quit talkin’ like I ain’t here, I’m not in high school, I’m twenty- uh- twenty-thr… four?’  

‘Yeah, and I’m twelve,’ deadpanned Shinji.

‘Yeah, and I’m going to shove this mop up yours if you don’t fuck off. Urahara Kisuke, do not sleep tonight because I will come to your house and shove so much wasabi in your mouth in the night, next life you’ll reincarnate as a mashed-up root.’

Kisuke facepalmed. She didn’t even know where he lived, but alright. He’ll sleep with one eye open. Yoruichi-san will probably say he had it coming.

Shinji eyed the girl with amused interest. ‘Matcha Latte with soy and honey, thanks,’ said Shinji.

‘Huh?’ she screeched.

Shinji pointed at the menu board. ‘Ya make those, right? I would like to order a beverage.’ Yeah, lest he really get kicked out of the café, it was cold outside damn it.

Hiyori stared at him mutinously. It had never occurred to her that Kisuke actually had _friends_ in Kyoto, but he also hadn’t really spoken about personal life until they started working at the café together. Of all the friends he had, _of course_ it had to be a giant pain in the butt like this guy. What was his name again? Seiji? Eiji? Sanji?

She took the coins Shinji deposited onto the tray, and moodily begun scooping out matcha powder.

‘Hiyori-san, I can do it-’ Kisuke offered, but Hiyori growled at him and told him to start doing pack down. Kisuke, throwing up his hands, complied, and Shinji shot him a furtive wink.

Shinji made himself comfortable in one of the stools at the counter, right in front of the coffee machine. Hiyori bristled as she felt his eyes on her.

She pushed a cup and saucer towards him. ‘Here’s your drink, baldy.’

Without another word, she turned on her heel violently and disappeared into the back of the café.

‘I have hair, damn it.’ Shinji whispered. ‘Ey Kisuke, do you want to taste test this for me or? What if she poisoned it?’

‘No thank you, not really,’ came Kisuke’s polite response as he was stacking up the chairs.

‘Bottoms up?’ laughed Shinji as he eyed the contents of the cup dubiously. He later concluded that if he did get poisoned horribly, it would have been worth it, for it was the most heavenly matcha latte he ever had. Not that he would tell Hiyori, though, because then she would probably make the next one he ordered taste like a chinese medicine concoction and then he would _actually_ get poisoning. He had the feeling she wasn’t his biggest fan.


	2. Chapter 2

‘Is your friend Hirano Shinsuke a drug dealer, or a part of the Yakuza,’ Hiyori asked one day as Kisuke walked with her towards the main exit of their campus, bikes in tow.

‘Hirako Shinji,’ Kisuke corrected.  ‘And, what makes you think that?’

Kisuke was unable to hide his mirth, and snickered, causing Hiyori’s ire to grow.

‘Why the fuck is he dressed like- like that, every time I’ve seen him then?’ Hiyori had seen Shinji more than a few times now over the past few months, and he would be every bit as suited up as the first day she saw him. He probably owned at least five different watches. Hiyori had lost track of how many ties. Through pure Sherlockian deduction powers, Hiyori figured he worked nearby, and thus he came to the nearby café out of convenience to get some caffeine in his bloodstream.

Mashiro was convinced Shinji had underground affiliations. Hiyori thought Mashiro was probably reading way to many crazy light novels.

Hiyori told herself she was not curious at all about what Shinji did. She just wanted to know why- why he was so overdressed all the time.

Kisuke put a hand on his chin and considered Hiyori’s question with a dramatic flair. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you this but like, he has an incurable illness that forbids him from wearing anything but the finest French linen and tailored suits from the most bespokest of bespoke tailors in the heart of England. The thread count has to be higher than one-fifty, but lower than two-hundred,’ Kisuke answered tragically. ‘Or else he dies.’

Hiyori made a scrunchy face at Kisuke. She almost, _almost_ believed him, but alas, she was not born yesterday and by this point she knew him to be capable of telling the most egregious lies. She pretended to consider his answer and looked him up and down, eyes resting on his slightly scuffed chinos with bright spots of white, discoloured by bleach – probably from mopping up at the café. ‘In that case, I hope he spreads the illness to you soon, ‘cause then you’d actually die.’ she fired back.

‘You’re one to talk,’ Kisuke quipped, then smartly opted to deflect the conversation back to what Shinji’s mysterious vocation could be. He was having too much fun with this. ‘You didn’t see his badge?’

‘Badge? Is he an overdressed boy scout. Or a Pokemon trainer.’

Wow. Shinji should be here and listen first-hand to the things coming out of this girl’s mouth.

‘No…’

‘What is he then?’

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself,’ Kisuke’s eyes twinkled mysteriously.

‘Pffft, well when will I see him again?’ Hiyori challenged.

‘Oh, you miss him THAT much huh? I’ll dial him right now. Think he’s at work though.’

‘NO!’ Hiyori made a wild swipe at Kisuke’s phone and Kisuke raised it up into the air. Their height difference plus Kisuke’s raised arm was too much for Hiyori, and in the time she spent leaping for his phone, the call had gone through. Kisuke put it on speaker and Hiyori froze, mortified.

'Yohoo~’ Kisuke sang through the phone. 'Someone really misses you~’

'Aww Kisuke baby that's sweet, but I’m at work so-’

'Mate, I just saw your late ass jumping on a train seven hours ago I don’t miss you, not really.’

‘Ouch, what-’

‘Sarugaki-san here has something she wants to say to you.’

'...' The line went quiet.

'It wasn’t me who told him to dial ya, hage!' Hiyori screeched into the mouthpiece, standing on tippy toes to make sure she could be heard loud and clear.

'Wow it really is the JK,’ came Shinji’s smooth voice from the other end of the line. ‘Didja want me to help you with your homework?’

‘Yeah yeah,’ Hiyori growled back at him. ‘Come here right now and let me test how much hydrofluoric acid I need to dissolve yer bald head-’

‘HUH? You better hope I don’t actually get melted into goop anytime soon because you’ll be the first one taken in for questioning girl, I’ll-’

Kisuke took the phone off speaker at this point, inhaling in a manner which looked more like hyperventilation in an attempt to hide his laughter. ‘Gotta go Shinji, laters.’

‘Hey YOU-‘

With that, Kisuke hung up the phone and swung a leg over his rickety bike and _whooshed_ his way out through the front gate along with the blustery winter gale that followed in his wake.

/

The next time Hiyori saw Shinji, it was the last week of December. Not that she was counting the days or anything. Shinji came to the café in spells – some weeks he would be here almost every other day, other times Hiyori wouldn’t catch sight of him for weeks. Kisuke skittishly said it was soon to be his twenty-seventh birthday, and Hiyori was welcome to join them for drinks at the local cellar bar a few blocks down from campus. By them, he meant himself, his girlfriend whom Hiyori had never met, and “some others”– Hiyori assumed Shinji was included, but she wasn’t about to ask anyone for confirmation.

So it was then that Hiyori found herself sitting in a booth at a warmly lit cellar bar, knees propped up in front of her, idly sipping on a glass of mulled cider. She wasn’t here by choice, it was Mashiro who had harangued her to come – of course.

Kisuke was currently up at the bar counter, doing shots with Yoruichi-san, whom Hiyori had finally met in person after listening to Kisuke dotingly prattle on about her for the better part of the year. Apparently, their birthdays were only a day apart so they’d always celebrate it together, and Hiyori wished them both an early happy birthday. Truth to be told, she had actually been beginning to suspect this ‘Yoruichi-san’ was a fake figment of Kisuke’s imagination up until now, a being who existed on the same crazy plane as Kisuke’s other incomprehensible thoughts.

That said, even after meeting her in person, this Yoruichi was unreal all the same. Upon arriving at the bar, Hiyori had watched Yoruichi scarf down an entire basket of crispy karaage and proceed to wash it down with a 750ml bottle of Asahi; Hiyori hadn’t even decided on her drink.

Hiyori had spent almost a third of her twenty-something years of life on a university campus. She may not be the most social person, not by a long shot, but she had seen it all. Alcohol chugging, speed-eating competitions, alcohol chugging during speed eating competitions – but she had never seen anyone do it with such predatory efficiency and grace as Yoruichi. Something about her just felt very _regal_. Every now and then, Yoruichi’s gaze would flicker over to where Hiyori was sitting with Mashiro and Lisa, and she would grin and wink at Hiyori if their eyes met.

Mashiro had been happily chattering to Yadomaru Lisa as Hiyori half-listened. According to bits and pieces of what Hiyori took from their conversation, Lisa and Mashiro had attended the same high school, albeit being several cohorts apart. Making small talk with strangers wasn’t exactly Hiyori’s forte, so she contented herself with perusing the drinks –  which contained a lot of imported western liquor despite the cellar bar’s otherwise Japanese style décor with the paper lantern lights and tatami flooring. Kisuke’s _other_ friends seemed normal and nice enough, Hiyori inwardly scoffed. _Unlike_ someone. Speaking of which, where the fuck was the baldest baldy?

The _noren_ at the foot of the steps leading to the cellar bar was swept aside, and Shinji materialised before Hiyori like the devil, as if her thoughts had summoned him from the depths of the void. Lisa raised a hand to signal her presence and he strode towards their tidy booth, a mildly surprised expression on his face.

‘Yo’ Lisa. I didn’t know you were down in Kyoto?’

‘Got here this afternoon,’ Lisa shrugged, not looking up from her novel. ‘Work sent me down here for the next few weeks, figured I’d be seeing ya here tonight anyway.’

‘Cool,’ Shinji replied simply. ‘Kensei says he’s sorry he can’t make it, they’ve got a stake out tonight in Utano.’ He shed his black leather gloves, coat, jacket and deftly hooked his fingers through his tie, tugging it loose.

Mashiro stared, mouth agape like a specimen of fluffy green koi fish.  

Shinji caught her eye, and winked at her, introducing himself as Lisa’s friend from back when they were in uni. Mashiro, all sugar and sparkles, reciprocated in kind.

Hiyori glared at Shinji. ‘Hirako ya damn baldy, kindly remove your gloves off my head!’

‘Didn’t see ya there, chibi.’ Shinji laughed and flicked her nose, but did as he was told and removed the precariously stacked gloves from atop her little golden head. Hiyori swatted at his invasive, ungloved hand like a cat.

Lisa looked up from her book and quirked an eyebrow. 

Shinji half-shrugged at her and cleared his throat. ‘Any of you want drinks?’ He nodded towards the bar counter, where Kisuke was waving at him.

‘Espresso Martini,’ Lisa said, eyes still glued to the pages of her light novel.

‘Peach chuuhai,’ Mashiro requested, raising an arm into the air.

Shinji’s gaze fell onto Hiyori.

Hiyori stared back at him. After a pause, she raised her brows and said flatly, ‘I’m not old enough to have alcohol.’

Shinji made an involuntary choking noise. ‘What? Wait- no really?'

Hiyori turned her head and smirked, fanged tooth just visible under her upper lip, glinting under the soft lighting of the paper lanterns adorning the roof. ‘I don’t know. You were the one who decided I was still in high school?’

Shinji huffed, and Hiyori begun to shake in small fits of laughter. ‘Mashiro, I told you he was an idiot.’

‘This is like a kansai manzai party,’ Mashiro giggled.

Lisa had closed her book at this point, and had propped her head on both hands, openly observing the pair across the table.

Hiyori was still laughing. Shinji was staring at her, transfixed.

‘Shinji, muh drink~,’ Lisa said, leaning over the table to snap her fingers in front of Shinji’s face.

Shinji blinked. ‘Ya, ya, comin’ right up you closet alcoholic.’

‘Pot calling the kettle black much?’ retorted Lisa.

When Shinji was suitably distanced from them, caught up in conversation with Kisuke and Yoruichi at the bar counter, Lisa put her book down again.

Hiyori felt Lisa’s gaze on her, and bristled. ‘ _What_?’ She questioned, Edamame bean dangling from her mouth.

‘How did you say you met Shinji again?’

‘Hirako? He’s Kisuke’s friend, isn’t he?’ Hiyori said as it was the most obvious thing ever. ‘Buy one, get one free…’

‘She threw a tea towel at his head,’ snickered Mashiro, fist pounding the polished oaken tabletop.

‘He fuckin’ threw it at me first, alright?’ Hiyori growled back. ‘Wait why, how do you know Shinji?’

‘We went to law school together,’ said Lisa. ‘Kind of the reverse situation to you, I met Kisuke through Shinji. Though no tea-towels were thrown.’ Lisa covered her mouth with the back of her hand and suppressed a laugh. 

‘Law school… Tokyo, law school?’ Hiyori furrowed her brows.

‘Yep, Kisuke, Yoruichi-san, Shinji and I were all students at Toudai. Kisuke and Yoruichi-san were a year below us, though.’

‘Wow,’ breathed Mashiro. ‘Oh, Hiyorin, maybe Shinji is not a part of the Yakuza after all.’

Hiyori was oddly silent. Lisa’s information more or less answered Hiyori’s question about Shinji’s vocation – or at least, narrowed the field – and deep down, Hiyori knew Lisa’s words to be very, very, true. Hiyori may be biased about her opinions on certain things and people but she was still a scientist, and scientists aren’t supposed to ignore observations just because it didn’t confirm their hypothesis – in this case, Hiyori’s hypothesis that Shinji was some lazy rich corporate heir that probably spent his past and present life collecting expensive koi fish.

Lisa’s information kind of made sense. She might be worth talking to, after all.

‘Lisa-san,’ Hiyori begun. ‘Why- why did Kisuke come down here from Tokyo University if he was accepted into a PhD there?’

Hiyori was convinced Kisuke-the-mad-genius was toying with her with all his made-up stories about why he ended up in the same research lab as her, and it pissed her off.

‘You can just call me Lisa,’ she older woman replied with a wave of her hands. ‘You-’

‘You don’t know?’ interjected Mashiro.

‘Wait, you know?!’ screeched Hiyori back at her green-haired friend. ‘How?’

‘What do you know?’ asked Lisa.

‘Kisuke told me that _‘Toudai wasn’t a good fit for him’_ or some shit, but that reeks of bullshit, because Toudai takes the best and Kisuke- Kisuke at least knows his shit.’ Hiyori scrunched her nose. ‘Although I don’t want to admit it, but it’s true.’

‘Hiyorin, you’re so- so slow sometimes!’ Mashiro whined.

Hiyori glared impatiently at the both of them.

'Kisuke was uh, expelled, from his PhD course in Tokyo,' Lisa said slowly.

'No fuckin' way.' Hiyori whispered to no one in particular. She knew there were generally two ways people got expelled from their course, and they were both pretty serious as far as serious transgressions go. The first came from if you committed an act that would generally get you a nice pair of handcuffs from the police on top of course termination... like sexual harrassment or if you killed a dude or something ... The second ... academic misconduct.

Hiyori chanced a glance at Kisuke, who had somehow acquired a paper fan at this point and was being a complete _dork_ with it, swooshing it in Shinji’s face. She hadn’t known him for long, but she at least knew he wasn’t the kind of person who would get expelled on the first grounds. As for academic misconduct, this was as improbable, if not more improbable. Not because Kisuke was a genius – that was only half of it. The other part was that to Kisuke, there would be no point in creations if they were not wholly his own.

‘I see you guys are talking about some fun stuff,’ said Yoruichi as she plopped down next to Lisa on the zabuton, the drinks Lisa and Mashiro previously ordered in tow. Hiyori jumped in surprise at Yoruichi’s appearance.

‘I feel like a third wheel,’ Yoruichi whined. She jabbed a thumb behind her to the bar counter, where Shinji had now confiscated Kisuke’s fan, but was trying to wrestle what looked like a golden button off Kisuke. Kisuke seemed to be keenly interested the small trinket, which he held tightly between his thumb and index finger. A muted, gold light reflected off the contested item, and Lisa sighed, looking between Yoruichi and the two lanky blonds squabbling at the counter.

Hiyori felt she was missing something. ‘Wait-’ she began, looking at Yoruichi. ‘So how did Kisuke end up here?’

‘He was expelled,’ Yoruichi said simply, a soft golden light dancing in her eyes.

Hiyori was beginning to get sick of this repetitive conversation.

Sensing her frustration, Mashiro decided to contribute. ‘Hiyoriiin,’ Mashiro yawned. ‘Yoruichi-san here is, heiress to the Shihouin Minerals corp, you know?’

Shihouin Minerals. Hiyori knew they were a huge publically floated company, because she would hear the name in the evening news stockmarket report from time to time. They had a reasonably large R&D department, and mined raw metals from various locations across the globe. Much of Japan’s rural fencing used metals supplied by them. The company was, well, pretty big. They also happened to be caught up in bribery allegations right now with the government’s finance minister – whose entire department was also currently getting investigated.

‘Pfft what heiress, cut that out. I left that cursed place for a reason,’ Yoruichi said archly, taking a swig of the nearest drink to her. ‘Can we move on with the story?’ she made a shooing motion with her hand and thunked her forhead onto the table.

‘Sorry, Yoruicchin!’ apologised Mashiro.

‘It’s cool.’ Yoruichi made a victory sign with her hand, forehead still glued to the bar table.

‘So,’ Mashiro continued. ‘Er, I actually don’t know. I think Kisuke got expelled because of academic misconduct. He told me, but told me not to tell you.’

‘ _What the fuck’_ yelled Hiyori. ‘How?’ 

‘I don’t really know-’ said Mashiro, ‘But I don’t think he told me everything. He said he misplaced his work and someone handed it in as his, and there was a mixup. Also, I think he didn’t want you feeling bad for him, you know? So he told me not to tell you. Sorry, I ran into him and Yoruichi one time, and then we just sort of talked-’ Mashiro blurted rather quickly, and shot a pleading look to Yoruichi across the table.

‘A mixup.’ Hiyori repeated. ‘What the fuck is Toudai doing if they expel someone over a mixup? Which piece of shit took his work anyway and then didn’t own up to it?’

'Aizen Sousuke,’ Lisa sighed. ‘You know, the rich son of the finance minister. He was in law school for a bit, but then he switched out and started doing a STEM major for some reason.’

‘Toudai’s so scary,’ whined Mashiro.

‘Anyway, it was the finance minister’s son’s word against Kisuke’s, and the academic discipline board may or may not have been bribed or blackmailed, we don’t know, and then Kisuke was also almost charged with theft on top of all that,’ finished Yoruichi. ‘I also kinda feel like my family had a hand in it, because, you know, Kisuke wasn’t born as the rich heir to sony corp or something…’

‘So then Hikifune-sensei took him in down here?’ Hiyori asked awkwardly, finally feeling like the pieces were falling into place.

‘Uh huh,’ said Yoruichi. ‘She’s someone my maternal grandmother knew, and so we wrote to her and sent her all his work …’

Hiyori was silent for a while. Kisuke was so fucking annoying. He never told anyone _anything._ And of course Hikifune believed in him. She stared at Yoruichi, who was munching on the remaining edamame in the bowl.

‘So, aren’t you guys going to, you know- fight back?’

               ‘Against what? And _how?_ ’ laughed Yoruichi. ‘What’s done is done, our life isn’t _bad_ down here, I’m away from my awful family – save Yuushiro – and teaching kids taekwondo instead of being forced to learn how to manage client accounts and going on matchmaking dates,’ she tried to take a swig of Hiyori’s cider, only to find the mug empty ‘-more drinks needed!’

‘That’s fucked up,’ Hiyori challenged.

‘Oh believe me, I know it is. But we pick our battles,’ Yoruichi said lightly.

With the question that had been plaguing Hiyori for the better part of the year finally answered, she found she wasn’t really able to process it all. It was one thing to read about corruption and politics in a newspaper. It was kind of a peripheral staple in everyday media that just  existed, permanently. It was another matter completely to hear stories that didn’t even make it to the journos, but were so much more bizarre and hit closer to home because they happened to the people around you.

A part of her was angry that Yoruichi and Kisuke weren’t _angrier_. She stretched her legs out on the tatami, sipping on the half-glass of peach chuuhai Mashiro didn’t finish. Trust Mashiro to run off getting a new drink without finishing her current one.

Yoruichi had returned to Kisuke, and was now protesting against his open displays of affection towards her. Shinji had vacated his seat, probably in the light of Yoruichi returning.    

 Hiyori scanned the room. Lisa was the only one remaining at the booth with Hiyori, sitting on the opposite side of the long table between them.

‘Are you looking for Shinji?’ Lisa enquired, with a smile that Hiyori didn’t quite like the look of on her face.

‘No, why would I-’

‘He’s there.’ Lisa nodded towards the open space behind the bar counter which took up a rectangular section in the centre of the room.

Hiyori squinted. She could make out Shinji laughing and dancing with a few girls as he queued for his drink. They would come up to him, and he would humour them by swaying in beat to the soft doof-doof music in the background. His movements came easily to him, and he drew Hiyori’s gaze like a magnet. Mashiro seemed to have caught on to Shinji’s game, and she skipped over to Shinji, dramatically extending a hand, inviting him to dance. Shinji took it, and now the pair of them were doing an offbeat waltz to soft electronic house music. It was a ridiculous sight to behold.

Hiyori scrunched her nose at the sight. ‘ ‘Shiro’s drunk…’

‘ … and Shinji’s back to his old self.’ said Lisa, with raised eyebrows.  ‘Haven’t seen him like this in a while.’

'What, flirt with every girl in the bar?’

‘Not every,’ qualified Lisa. ‘But no, I mean, he looks relaxed.’

Hiyori furrowed her brow. ‘But he’s like, always relaxed, and annoying.’

‘Yeah, but that’s what I’m saying. He’s like that with you, I think.’

‘What does that even mean?’ said Hiyori, concern evident in her voice. She was full on glaring at Shinji from across the room now. ‘He’s so … arrgh!’

'Who knows?’ Lisa said cryptically. ‘Guess we shall see.’

‘See? Who? What?’

‘Or, I mean, _I_ shall see.’ Lisa amended. ‘You probably won’t see until he- actually, never mind.’

'Does everyone speak in code around here, damn it,’ complained Hiyori.

‘Sorry, I’ve lost the train of thought myself.’ Lisa adjusted her glasses. ‘I’ll tell you the inspiration hits me again.’

Hiyori sighed and waved a hand in a _whatever_ gesture, eyes still on Shinji. ‘So, uh, where does Hirako work then?’

‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’ Lisa murmured, eyes twinkling. She had gone back to reading her book.

‘Fine, where do you work?’

‘Government. Prosecution department, but I mainly do legal research.’

‘You don’t work with Hirako?’

‘Hah, nice try. No.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> formatting from word into this ao3 box is actually going to end me.


	3. Chapter 3

_And it's dark in a cold December, but I've got ya to keep me warm_  
_And if you're broken I'll mend ya_  
_And keep you sheltered from the storm that's raging on_

_Lego House - Ed Sheeran_

/

It was well past midnight when the motley group of them left the establishment. Street lights illuminated the winding alley in sparse patches, the iciest parts of the crumbly asphalt revealed by the way they gleamed cheekily under the scant lighting.

Kisuke and Yoruichi waved their goodbyes, and ambled towards the university campus – Kisuke had apparently left his laptop in his office.

Mashiro and Lisa, both of whom happened to live in the heart of Kamogawa – Kyoto’s city centre – were headed in the opposite direction as they needed to catch the train. Mashiro clung to Lisa like a koala bear, mumbling ‘warrrm’ the whole time as she dragged her feet (and Lisa’s feet) in the general direction of the nearby train station, very, very, slowly.

Before leaving, Lisa levelled Shinji with a questioning stare.

Shinji pulled his scarf over his nose, and stared back at Lisa. ‘What?’

‘Not taking anyone home?’ Lisa waggled her eyebrows. ‘You know, you used to-’

Hiyori was a few meters away from the group, unchaining her bicycle. She had only been outside for a few minutes, but already her fingers were becoming numb with cold and it was getting hard to tweak the combination passcode on her bike lock. She paused momentarily when in her peripheral vision, Shinji moved as if to stand between herself and Lisa.

Shinji took a stride closer to the bespectacled woman, putting a hand over her mouth. ‘Used to – and no, I’m not. you’re awfully sentimental today, isn’t your last train coming? Take Mashiro-chan and go.’

‘You not coming with us to the station?’

Shinji schooled his face into a blank look. ‘Get home safe,’ Shinji replied airily. ‘Shoo.’

‘Are you going to walk Hiy-’

‘Yeah, you know I am. I don’t see you guys about to do it because your last train is coming in about-‘ Shinji stretched his arm to check his watch ‘- seven minutes.’

‘Thanks Shinzuiii,’ crooned Mashiro. She blew a kiss at Shinji before Lisa tugged her arm – hard – and Mashiro yelped, the two of them slowly disappearing into the distance.

Hiyori stood up, and kicked the kickstand of her bike. Her rickety old bike creaked, and she was about to mount it in a fluid motion, leg already half over the seat when she realised Shinji was still standing there.

‘Hage, you forget where yer home is?’

Shinji laughed. ‘Are you really planning to bike in this weather? After drinking?’

‘What’s it to you?’ Hiyori fired back. She properly mounted her bike, and attempted to pedal when Shinji grabbed the handle of her bike and stopped its motion before it started.

‘It’s dangerous?’ He gestured at the frosted state of the road before them. ‘Where do you live, I’ll walk you home.’

‘Unlike you, I know where my house is. I can get home myself, thanks,’ Hiyori responded irritably. The cold made her voice chattery, and she fought to keep it even.

 Seems like we’re going the same way anyway – walk with me and keep me company?’

‘Why should I?’ Hiyori asked, foot currently not supporting her weight on the ground agitatedly attempting to stamp down on the pedal.

 _Sooo stubborn,_ Shinji inwardly sighed. _Alright then._ ‘It’s illegal to bike after consuming alcohol,’ he said, slowly.

'What are you, going to report me?’

‘I might?’

‘So?’

‘So then, you can ask me to defend you when you get pulled up in front of a judge in court, and my schadenfreude will be worth it. I’ll even do it pro bono.’

A vein popped in Hiyori’s temple.

‘You really are a lawyer.’

‘Maybe.’

‘You are.’

‘Wow, I didn’t know people become lawyers if Sarugaki Hiyori says they are.’

Hiyori dismounted her bike at this point.

‘Hirako,’ Hiyori grit out. ‘It’s 1am, it’s fucking freezing, I will kick yer ass into the stream two blocks down if you don’t – _brrr_ – shove off.’

‘I’m getting cold too just standin’ here, if yer going to argue with me at least do it while we walk.’ He grabbed Hiyori’s bike, and started walking it down the alley.

‘Hey baldy –‘ Hiyori scampered behind him. ‘You – you tryna’ steal my bike now?’

‘So mistrustful,’ Shinji laughed as he paused and passed the bike back to her. ‘You’re clearly the lawbreaker of the two of us. You push it then.’

Shinji pulled off his black leather gloves and draped them between the handlebars. ‘Put these on, yer gonna become the tiniest abominable snowman soon and then I’ll be in real trouble.’

Hiyori glared, but her fingers were honestly beginning to feel like icicles. That said, she didn’t want to put on the baldy’s stupid gloves.

‘Go on, or else I’ll push yer bike for ya while you salvage your remaining fingers.’

Hiyori glared at him. She grabbed the gloves and pulled them on, and the warmth was instantaneous, even though the gloves were so big on her she left the fingertips of the glove empty by at least an inch and a half.

‘Good girl,’ yawned Shinji, a cloud of fog clouding his face. ‘Chop chop, cold.’

‘I ain’t a kid,’ Hiyori growled.

‘I know,’ he replied quietly, jamming his hands into the pockets of his coat.

The two walked side by side, the sound of the stream running in the distance and the occasional creak of Hiyori’s old bike filling up the silence between them.

‘Question,’ Shinji eventually spoke up.

Hiyori glared at him.

‘Do ya actually know my name?’

Hiyori looked away. ‘No shit.’

‘Say it, then.’

‘Hage.’

‘No.’

Hiyori plodded on, still not meeting his eyes. ‘Hi-Hirako, right?’

‘Sure. My first name, though.’ Shinji challenged. ‘You know, Sarugaki-san, most people have a surname and a first name,’ Shinji began. ‘So for example, my surname is Hirako, written with the ‘Hira’ as in-’

‘Hirako Shinji,’ Hiyori growled. ‘Shut the fuck up.’

‘I knew it,’ Shinji muttered. ‘You do know my first name.’

‘I just told you I did, didn’t I, hage?’

‘Then why,’ Shinji said slowly, as if he were choosing his next words, ‘do you call Kisuke by his first name, and Lisa, but you have amnesia when it comes to me?’

He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he said this, and looked away, almost embarrassedly.

‘I don’t have amnesia.’ Hiyori replied. ‘You’re just bald.’

'What.’

‘Hage _Shi-n-ji_ ,’ Hiyori enunciated after a while, as if tasting the name on her tongue. ‘Shinji. Hage.’ She hid her face further into her scarf. ‘Are ya happy now, will you shut up now?’

‘Hage isn’t a part of my name,’ Shinji said, pulling a hand out of his pocket to prod her cheek. ‘Remove it.’

‘No way,’ Hiyori said petulantly.

Shinji sighed and relented, gently humming what Hiyori recognised _as ‘I won’t go home without you’_ under his breath as they walked on. His voice was soft and even, and he was mostly in tune, Hiyori noted. At least the baldy did some things alright when he wasn’t spouting garbage.

She looked at her gloved hands, and felt warm inside. Everything was quiet and peaceful, and it felt as though she existed in a pocket of time where the universe just slowed down around her. It was easier to breathe the cool winter air into her lungs, and the cloudy weight that came with merely _existing_ felt lighter.

 The first snowflake that fell landed on Hiyori’s nose. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head in a brief jerking motion, causing Shinji to raise an eyebrow at her.

Hiyori raised her head and looked up at the sky accusatorily, and Shinji followed suit.

‘Whaddya know, it’s the first snow of winter in this old town,’ Shinji murmured. He too scrunched his nose as a snowflake landed on his face, and half-yelped as a snowflake landed in his eye.

‘Pfft,’ Hiyori snickered. ‘Watch you don’t fall into that ditch over there.’

There she was, laughing at him again. Shinji caught the gleam of her fanged tooth by the light of the moon, and the way her honeyed-amber eyes lit up with mirth. In this moment, Shinji thought she looked otherworldly.

They had stopped in front of an old, worn shrine – Kyoto was full of these, if nothing else – and he briefly thought Hiyori was about to announce to him that she was home now, for this was her entrance back up to Takamagahara.

The wind blew and the small pieces of omikuji tied around rusted wires wavered behind her, wayward snowflakes getting caught in the soft locks of ash blond hair that framed her features.

Shinji tore his gaze back up towards the sky. ‘Lots of stars out tonight,’ he commented.

‘S’always like that here.’ Hiyori eyeballed Shinji suspiciously. ‘Ya have that Kansai accent but you don’t act like you’re from around here.’

‘What, of course I’m from here, how else does one acquire such a sexy accent like mine?’

Hiyori scowled. ‘That’s not what I mean-’

The rumbling sound of a passing train interrupted her sentence, indicating to them both that they had finally meandered to the train station.

Shinji looked at Hiyori and shrugged. ‘I worked in Tokyo after I finished uni there, I was there a while. Then, I came down here.’

To anyone else, it would have just looked like Shinji was just casually throwing out a mundane tidbit of information about his life. But Hiyori could tell he was holding something back. He wasn’t looking at her with that cheeky jovial glint in his eyes. Instead, he was looking up at the night sky again, his usual slouch that little bit straighter, the muscles along his defined jawline that little bit more tense.

Hiyori stilled. She didn’t know what made her say the next few words that came out of her mouth. She could blame the alcohol (though she didn’t even have nearly enough to get her drunk), she could blame her good mood that it was a Friday night (well, Saturday morning), she could blame the pocket of time that existed here and now, where the oxygen rushed freely into her lungs, the blood felt hot in her veins, and she felt like she had known Shinji for lifetimes.

‘I’m- I’m glad you came down here, I guess.’ Hiyori cleared her throat. ‘Your bald head is- is a good tea towel stand.’

Shinji turned to look at Hiyori, her face obscured once again by that cursed scarf, the tips of her ears pink.

‘My house is pretty close to here. I can walk home myself from here, or else your last train is gonna ditch.’ Hiyori said, voice muffled by the scarf.

‘Oho? You know where my stop is?’

‘You get off at the same stop as Kisuke, do ya not?’ Hiyori said. ‘One stop down, but you better not miss it ‘coz otherwise it’ll be quite the walk. Biking is – illegal.’

‘How is that fair? I don’t know where you live but you know where I live?’ Shinji crossed his arms.

‘I don’t technically know where you live.’ Hiyori said. ‘Go.’

‘Okay,’ Shinji agreed. ‘But first-‘ He held out an open palm.

Hiyori begun to pull off her – his gloves. The cold stinging of the wind assaulted her fingertips instantaneously, and she instinctively folded her hand into a fist.

‘No, keep those, you still need to walk a bit right? Your phone, girl. Show.’

Hiyori fished out her phone from her jacket pocket, and Shinji grabbed it. He dialled his number, and his own phone audibly vibrated from the folds of his coat.

‘Text me when ya get home.’

‘Why should I?’ Hiyori glared at him. ‘Are you my second mother?’

‘Because I have your number now, and I will be calling you relentlessly otherwise.’

‘I’ll block you.’

‘Then I’ll come back out searching for you, to make sure you didn’t fall into a ditch or get abducted.'

‘Me, abducted? You best worry about anyone who even tries, I’ll kick their ass so hard they won’t even be on this planet anymore-‘

‘I just want to know you’re home safe,’ he said softly.

Hiyori bristled. ‘No one asked you. ‘Sides, where are all those girls you danced with at the bar? Why are you here annoying me, Hage Shinji?’

Shinji raised his eyebrows, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. ‘Did you want to dance with me, Sarugaki-san?’

‘No fuckin’ way.’

‘See? Wasn’t going to ask you anyway.’ Shinji made a display of idly examining his nails.

Hiyori jabbed him in the stomach with her elbow. ‘You can fuck off now.’

‘I won’t sleep till you text me, Hi-yo-ri!’

Hiyori flipped a vulgar gesture at Shinji and turned on her heel, bike in tow.

‘You better not ride that crappy old bike, Hiyori!’ Shinji yelled behind her.

/

               The clock next to her bed displayed 2:17AM in very bright blue LED lettering. Hiyori snuggled deeper under her covers, and unlocked the lock screen on her phone.

               She had received a message on LINE from Hikifune sensei.

Sender: Hikifune Sensei  
Message: How is my sweet Hiyori doing? I am in Munich right now – Kisuke emailed me, saying that your research is coming along well, I’m glad to hear that! The university faculty also sent around a newsletter announcement saying there will no longer be student housing offered to post-graduate students on the other side of the year. That’s next month, Hiyori. I know you don’t like doing life admin, so I’m just letting you know you are welcome to move back into our house if you want.

               Hiyori scowled. As much as she loved Hikifune Sensei, who raised her since she was fourteen, she found out quickly that at university people were incapable of seeing her as a separate entity who was not coasting along on the coat-tails of the illustrious Hikifune Kirio. Having Hikifune as her mentor and supervisor, and having Hikifune as her guardian – her _mother –_ was something else entirely. Hiyori had been trying not to think about how she was going to sort out this housing issue – she figured she’d just crash at Mashiro’s until she had a better idea, because housing did not come cheap near Kyoto University, but she did not want to move back in to the family home.

 

               Hiyori replied with a quick ‘I’ll think of something,’ and shoved her phone back onto her bedside table.

After a brief pause, she picked her phone back up and clicked into her call history, tapping the unregistered number at the top. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, her heart beating loudly in her chest. Shinji calling her name, ‘Hi-yo-ri’, in that smooth voice that she had come to grow so familiar with over the past year resonated in her mind and she buried her face into her pillow.

She clicked a quick message into her phone and hit ‘send’. Ten seconds hadn’t even passed before she got a reply.

Sender: (unsaved number)  
Message: I wasn’t trying to insult your bike, it _is_ crappy and old, am I wrong?  
  
               Hiyori decided to save the number into her phone after all, as ‘Hage’.

To: Hage  
Message:  Apologise to my bike!

Another lightning fast response.

Sender: Hage  
Message: You apologise to _me,_ you sure took your time confirming you weren’t dead. Almost called you.

               Hiyori scowled. God, he was a pain in the ass. Telling him in no unclear terms that he was not to call her, Hiyori put her phone away and resolved to not look at it again.

/

               Shinji sat on the edge of his bed with a towel around his bare shoulders, damp hair still slightly dripping with water. He was grinning like an idiot. She had written goodnight to him, and for some reason that was enough to make something of him inside him purr incandescently.

To: Sarugaki Hiyori  
Message: Give me my gloves back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ╮(￣ω￣;)╭ that formatting tho.

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to post this when I had finished the entire thing but then I had writers block and a bout of zero motivation or desire to do any hobbies so I'm just going to put what I have up here now, in case I don't write any more of this and what's here still entertains some of you. I have about twice as much as what I've put here sitting in my drafts but it's missing bits in the middle to put it all together into something that makes even a little bit sense. 
> 
> The goal is to finish what I started though (✧ω✧)
> 
> ** Note that the universities here exist in name and perhaps reputation only, I haven't studied at either of these universities so everything else in relation to them is made up based off other systems I know of and fictional imagination :p Same for certain bits and pieces of law related stuff, maybe I have something resembling a law degree on paper but it ain't for Japan. 
> 
> Rating will probably go up depending on how thirsty the fic is feeling. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Fic title taken from I like me better - Lauv.


End file.
